The Conatrian
by Alex GD
Summary: Follow The Agent's daughter, Sofie, Conatrian Grandmaster, as she goes against everything her parents taught her, challenging the Stormcloak principles as well as her struggle to overthrow the Empire and Dominion with the help of her Conatrian allies and followers.
1. An Agent's Legacy

The Conatrian

An Agent's Legacy..

4E 221

A/N: THIS STORY CARRIES ON FROM "THE AGENT"'S CONCLUSION. YOU MAY HAVE TO FIRST READ THE AGENT AS THIS IS A SEQUEL AND WILL SPAN THE CAREER OF SOFIE AS A CONATRIAN, AND YES, I HAVE CHANGED THE SPELLING OF CONATRIAN FROM 'K' TO 'C', I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT, AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REVIEW TELLING ME HOW TO IMPROVE AS A WRITER AND EMBELLISH THE STORY, THANK YOU FOR READING

The mood in the temple was solemn, Sofie held her father's hand as the priest spoke. Sofie was about to deliver her mother's eulogy. "Cheryl devoted her life to the Stormcloaks and spent 19 active years service in the field of espionage for Ulfric Stormcloak. Her work will be forever immortalised by her tact and strategy and natural aptitude for success whenever she was deployed on a mission." Sofie looked down at her brother, stone-faced and seemingly unphased by his mother's passing. She knew he was crying out for his mother on the inside, though. A tough child, a toughness borne of an upbringing in Stormcloak surroundings and years of training to be a Conatrian.

Sofie was called up to the pulpit and spoke a few words of her mother's kindness. She looked down to the congregation and saw all of her mother's childhood friends, her grandparents, her colleagues and, of course, her aunt Angi. Looking at Angi, she felt a certain anger at her parents,that Angi had practically raised her for the first seven years of her life. "My mother was a loving mother and would've died for her work and her children. And that's what she did." An awkward silence followed that line, an animosity at Sofie's brazenness.

The ceremony concluded with her mother being buried in the Windhelm graveyard. The snowflakes danced around them on the cold evening , a discernible magic about the weather. Sofie would've liked to think it was a message from her mother, if she wasn't so cynical. Angi held her hand asp she watched her mother buried. But Sofie felt nothing more no longer. No grief, no sadness, only a lust for retribution. Ancarion would die. By her hand. She would begin with avenging her mother and proceed to cripple The Aldmeri Dominion. Not for the benefit or satisfaction of the Stormcloaks and their false cries and begs of liberation, but by the promotion of The Conatrian philosophy. The philosophy that all have the right to be free from domination and dictatorship.

The ceremony concluded and everyone went their separate ways. Benor took his son back to their house in Windhelm, Hjerim and retired from the work of a Stormcloak, training his son to carry on his parents work as a Conatrian. Though only Sofie and the members of The Conatrian Order knew what it meant to be a Conatrian.

Sofie left Windhelm and went to The Conatrian Headquarters, situated in Treva's Watch, a territory they took from a lazy lord the previous year as the numbers of Conatrians grew and increased. The ride south into the Rift would take a few hours by carriage, so Sofie took her newly inherited family-sized stagecoach and drove to Treva's Watch. She spotted a few sabrecat along the way, sleeping peacefully in their groups. She arrived at the fort by midnight and was greeted by the latest recruit, Canute, a bright young boy with a innate talent for combat and strategy.

"Grandmaster, the others are sleeping, and I was told by Bjorvingd that, should I see you, you are to report to him for a meeting to discuss the Order's next move." Canute said, nervously. It was only his second encounter with her and he must have been eager to impress his leader. "Thank you, recruit." She said, and dismounted, tethering her horse and strolling inside the fort. She was tired, and Bjorvingd's meeting would have to wait until morning, even if he was Ulfric's son...


	2. Fort Greenwall

The Agent  
Chapter 2-Fort Greenwall 4E 221, 18th Rain's Hand

The seven hour sleep was short but undisturbed, and she was ready for her meeting with Bjorvingd, though no doubt he'd be hot-headed and annoyed that she ignored Canute's notification of his planned meeting, but she didn't care. She knew how to handle him. She strolled through the halls of the fort, not a care in the world. She passed through her apartments in the west wing through to the meeting room in the east.

"Where have you been?" Bjorvingd asked, furious, his hands firmly placed on the table, vellum scrolls and parchment laden on it. "Sleeping." She said, simply, unbothered by his tantrum. "Why do you disobey my orders?" He asked, further infuriated by her dismissive attitude towards his intense questioning. "Because you are not my master. I have none. Because you are on my territory. In my fort." She replied, her eyes matching his infuriated look. "Now what is the meaning of this meeting?" She asked, concentrating on what he wanted. "I've located Ancarion, your mother's murderer, the Thalmor-" he was interrupted by Sofie. "I know Ancarion. My mother told me about him when I was younger." She said, trying her hide her already inconspicuous pain. "We have reason to believe he is mustering his troops at Fort Greenwall." Bjorvingd carried on. "What's the source?" She asked, securing he truly did have a reason to believe her mother's killer was in Fort Greenwall.

"My informants within the Thalmor Militia." He said, studying the map of Skyrim. "Fine. We'll lead the troops tomorrow. At dawn. Prepare them for the march East." She concluded, leaving the room and heading for the courtyard, the Conatrians clashing their steel against practice dummies. She made the announcement that they would march on Fort Greenwall the following morning and advised them to accumulate their rest for the trip. Sofie herself decided to get some sleep before the impending battle.

She rose early, at four in the morning, to be precise. Her attendants entered her chamber and helped her dress into her steel-plate armour. Sofie didn't like needing help getting dressed. She had a slender and sleek body and she thought mainly larger people would require assistance in getting dressed. But she enjoyed her banter with the servants and attendants all the same.

She made her way to Bjorvingd's apartments and notified him of the impending march. He was ready, dressed in his Stormcloak regalia. "With your Conatrian Warriors and my father's people, we cannot fail." He said, walking beside Sofie as they made their way to the stables. "We cannot fail, perhaps, but we can still make shortcomings that could lead to failure." She said, her cynical beliefs more prominent than ever in her tone of voice.

They arrived at the stables and mounted their horses, riding out to address the hordes of Conatrians and rebels awaiting them. "Loyalist adherents to the adjoined principles of the Stormcloak Rebellion and The Order of Conatrian Warriors, today, we march on Fort Greenwall, in the hopes that we may reclaim it from its Thalmor inhabitants, and cleave the head of its captor from his shoulders. Two weeks ago, my mother was killed by Ancarion, Supreme General of The Thalmor Militia. He now defiles the pride and honour that Fort Greenwall once stood for." Sofie said, her speech hitting the soldiers and they broke into a cheer. The Conatrians remained quiet and let the Stormcloaks continue their caterwauling. "Without further delay, let us march on Fort Greenwall." Bjorvingd roared, setting his horse off alongside Sofie.

She wondered why he wasn't leading his own troops on the opposite side of the road, but kept quiet about the matter for now. "How do you propose we launch the attack?" Bjorvingd asked, lingering next to her. "We approach from the front, commencing a dialogue with Ancarion, while my Conatrians outflank them from the rear and kill off their officers. Your rebels can just sit and look pretty." She said, ending with a giggle. They talked a while longer, before a short silence ensued as they loomed ever nearer to Fort Greenwall.

The forest path led up to Fort Greenwall, the half hour long ride reaching its conclusion as the scouts peered round the woodland bend to reveal the old fort. She pulled out her spyglass and looked up to the battlements to see him; Ancarion, barking orders around the fort like a tyrannical taskmaster. She gestured to the troops behind her to rush forward and confront him while she followed. She then signaled her warriors to begin the flanking. They did as she bade and, with the utmost stealth, crept round the walls of the fort to start slaughtering their numbers from behind.

She followed the Stormcloaks forward to open her dialogue with Ancarion. "Hello Ancarion, I'm pleased to be of your acquaintance once again." She said, causing him to turn round and face her. "Salutations, filthy rebels." He said, addressing his enemy. "It's been too long since our last encounter." Sofie said, distracting him. "What is the purpose of your visit, Conatrian?" He queried her, memorizing her face as the little girl who killed his partner thirteen years earlier. I won't make this any longer than its needs to be." She said, cutting to the chase. "You killed my mother, and you endeavor to enslave our people, you must die." She declared, waiting for his response. "Well, I won't go down without a fight!" Ancarion snarled, flinging himself from the battlements and on to his horse, making a getaway. The fort erupted in chaos soon after his exit, screams and yelps streaming from the fort.

Sofie, Bjorvingd and the rebels had entered the fort moments after Ancarion's departure. Many of the officers had fallen and only one Conatrian had suffered a minor injury. Sofie sprinted toward a warlock, sword drawn and irritation overwhelming her senses. She leered behind him for a split second, before plunging the blade into his spine, causing her victim to spasm for a moment before falling to his death. She continued her frenzy and proceeded to split open an officers stomach, his insides dropping to the ground, the officers' fall cushioned by his intestines. She sensed a presence behind her, and spun around quickly enough to fell the official, drilling her blade into his skull. She sheathed her sword and pulled out her heirloom bow.

She took aim, her bow focused on an Altmer soldier. She pictured his death in her head first, before expelling the arrow into his kneecap, her target yelping, falling over the battlements to a hard death. She scanned the Fort, looking for Bjorvingd. She saw him fending off an Aldmeri Corporal, and decided to intervene, even if he did have the upper hand in the duel. She shot an arrow in the corporal's direction, the arrow embedding itself in his jugular. Bjorvingd turned in the arrows direction to shoot Sofie a scornful look. She was perplexed by his lack of gratitude. She decided to chase after Ancarion, predicting he couldn't have gone too far.

She mounted her steed and spurred her on in Ancarion's direction. She was in the wilderness by now, a small figure on the horizon, no doubt Ancarion. She would have to push her horse to it's limits to catch up with her quarry. So, she began to spur it further and further, until the poor horse nearly collapsed. She had caught up a little, and he was now within earshot of her words. "Why are you fleeing? Death is inevitable, you should be grateful you know how your life will end!" She exclaimed, whipping her horse, spurring the mare on. The steed quickened a few paces. "I won't die today, by your hand or any of your accomplices." He retorted. He turned left, taking the road to Morrowind. Sofie was nonplussed by his latest stunt, and decided to let him get away, if he did manage to get into Morrowind, he would be brutally slaughtered by the Dunmer and their intolerance of Dominion influence in their homeland.

Sofie let her horse rest for the ride back to Fort Greenwall. Ancarion had definitely tried to escape into Morrowind or had just fled the fort for fear of his life. It took a few minutes to get back to the fort, where the rebels were reveling in their success, The Conatrians retaining their sober state for now, though some did help themselves to the plethora of drinks on offer, in celebration of their latest victory. Sofie approached Bjorvingd who was talking with a Stormcloak lieutenant. She sat down on a crate next to Canute, the trainee Conatrian who greeted her earlier that morning. "Did you like your first taste of battle, recruit?" She queried him. "Very much, Grandmaster." He replied. They had a short conversation before Sofie announced they would be returning to Treva's Watch within the hour.

Sofie left Fort Greenwall, having left Ancarion to fight another day, vowing to herself that she would end him when next they met.


	3. A Dunmer Welcome

The Conatrian

A Dunmer Welcome

4E 223 26th Morning Star

"Land ahoy!" Gjalund bellowed. Sofie covered her ears to evade the sharp, piercing sound. They were approaching the jetty at Raven Rock. She was excited to be coming to a new land, but didn't forget what brought her into Solstheim. Conatrian business. Tracking Imperial commanders in the Ashland, attempting to root out the Dunmer Conatrian branch. They were only ten years old, and still in the process of foundation, hardly any resources to their name. The Nordic Branch had very little enough to provide for themselves, so until things improved, there could be no allied trading between branches across Tamriel.

But Sofie was determined to focus on the more pleasant features of her stay on the island. She exchanged glances with a muscular man, long black hair reaching down to his shoulders. He was a nord, like her, and they had spoken somewhat frequently throughout the journey. They were double checking their leather knapsacks to ensure they still possessed their belongings they had packed before they embarked four months earlier. They glanced up to lock eyes with each other shortly before departing the vessel. The Northern Maiden pulled into the port and dropped anchor. A minute or two later, a Dunmer dressed in red finery arrived at the jetty, proffering his hand for Sofie to hold and steadily take leave of the ship.

She took a second or two to admire the small colony of which she had just entered. She began walking and heard the Dunmer giving the dark-haired man some stern words. She heard the Nord responding with some gibberish about a fellow called Morick located on the island. The temple was breathtaking and she wanted to explore more of the colony, but before she did, she had to rent a room at the local tavern, The Retching Netch. The trip, (that sometimes had seemed eternal), had left her weary and exhausted. They had been delayed by storms and freak weather, not to mention having to complete the trade trips around Hammerfell. Sofie had protested ferociously to that, wanting to trim the length of the voyage by as much as possible.

As she strutted into the tavern, an ageing Orc threw her a look of utter loathing, seething contempt that looked as though it had been boiling within the owner for decades. If this was all Solstheim had to offer, she wanted to pack up and leave as soon as possible. But mere reminiscence of the beautiful temples, architecture and ashland forest renewed her faith in the island and she strolled down into the bar, to find a middle aged Dunmer cleaning out a tankard with a ragged cloth.

"I'd like to ren-" the barkeep interjected "Rent a room, I know, I've heard it all a thousand times." She was surprised by his agitated demeanour, his exasperated attitude toward his job, an outlook that it was a perfunctory task to keep the inn running. "It'll be ten gold, please." He said, not waiting for her to respond to his previous remark. She tossed over a purse of gold and waited for him to count. "First on the left." He said, delighting himself with the shimmer of the coins.

Sofie wanted nothing more than to sleep the next era away, but duty called. She launched her saddlebags onto her bed and sank into it. She was currently wearing her novice robes and hood, maintaining a low profile whilst on the island. She liked to keep unrecognised and never drew attention to herself whilst on an assignment. She paused a moment to hold thoughts of her personal quarry that had drove her on the past couple of years. It was a while ago now, that she had received a letter from a turncoat Altmer who had defected to the Conatrians from the Dominion, telling her Ancarion was working in a project to obtain sources for new armour for the Supreme Militia. When she had requested proof, he provided her with a sample from his diary, that she had kept for the rest of her life, safely locked in her safe in Treva's Watch.

She concluded her reminiscent session of the months past and sprang to her feet off the bed. She flung her garb off and dressed into something a bit more fetching than dirty travel-wear. She then turned her thoughts to the attendants who were apparently going to arrive off the next ship from Skyrim, making Sofie angry that they wouldn't travel with her. Further extending her fury was the fact they hadn't reached Solstheim before her, and that she would have to wait for their assistance for a number of days. But she craved the freedom of not living like an invalid who couldn't even dress themselves.

She walked out of her room around an hour later, clad in lime finery and her hair adjusted, stretching down to her shoulders. She bore a striking resemblance to her mother and her looks, a slightly more vivid-faced version of her mother all those years ago. Sofie's face told a story, unlike her mothers'. A story of struggle, deception and turmoil. She strutted out of the Retching Netch and saw her dark-haired acquaintance exiting Morvayn Manor, entertaining the possibility he was a diplomat of some sort or a friend of the Councilor, though she erased those thoughts judging by how the red-dressed Dunmer had addressed him at the jetty. He hadn't given her much to go on about his background, though she too had to hold her cards close to her chest, because of her position in the Conatrians.

She went on a short sightseeing trip around Raven Rock, starting with the temple she had wanted to see since her arrival. So far, she enjoyed her Dunmer Welcome.


	4. Induction

The Conatrian

Induction

12th Second Seed 4E 223

A/N

THIS CHAPTER INCLUDE DETAILS ABOUT THE DRAGONBORN AND HIS ASSOCIATION WITH THE CONATRIANS.

She had spent four months in his company now, and he was ready. He would be initiated into the Order before the month was out. She had explained the principles of the organisation in detail to him, while still withholding the identity of the order. Kaïen had been a loyal friend and had proven himself a worthy companion on the battlefield. She had been corresponding with Bjorvingd about the new recruit and his friend, Teldryn. Bjorvingd approved the recruits and enthusiastically wrote letters about the possibilities a new sect of the order might bring up for the Conatrians.

Sofie put down her quill and ceased her writing her latest letter to Bjorvingd, her linen bed sheets beckoning to her. She scurried into bed and let her body shut down. She slept through the night and bit into a fair share of her daytime. Though the lie-in was long awaited, she needed to speak with Kaïen and prepare him for the secret she was about to divulge.

He was sitting at a table, sipping Sujamma. She exhaled a deep breath and walked over to his table. He looked up and greeted her with a nod. The moment between sitting herself down remembering the first time he had revealed himself as the Dragonborn. She thought she would use this as a sort of to explain her involvement in the secret society that was The Conatrians.

"How can I help you today, Sofie?" He asked, settling the decanter on the table.

"I have an announcement to make." said, sinking into the chair. "I work for a universal improvement." She surprisiedsurprised herself with how she was wording this revelation.

"Fifteen years ago, a group of Stormcloak Rebels came up with The Order of The Conatrians. Spearheading the operation were my parents who chose me to be the first Grandmaster of the order. We work for the benefit of mankind, and have fought the greatest threat to its existence since our inception. In a few days, my second-in-command will arrive in Solstheim with the Conatrian Council who will vote you in as a member of The Conatrians. You may refuse this honour, but do so in with the knowledge that your life is over."

She sounded quite sinister and Kaïen's' face was blank. He had tried to make sense of her words that had flowed from her mouth in a blurry haze. She gave him some time to take in the information in.

Moments later, He spoke. "What rank will I receive?"

She had thought long about his position in the order and sealed her decision that could never be re-done. "Bjorvingd, my Commander General, and I, have placed you in the position of The Order of The Conatrians Solstheim Branchmaster." She declared, Kaïen's face overwhelmed by the influx of information relayed to him in the past few moments.

The Nord's boots thundered as he hit the docks with a bang.

"Bjorvingd, I'd like you to acquaint yourself with our newest member and Branchmaster of our chapter here in Solstheim." Sofie introduced her old friend to their latest addition.

"I'm Bjorvingd. Now can we proceed inside the temple to complete his induction?" Bjorvingd queried, desperate to get indoors. His crew of Conatrians trailed behind him carrying the supplies and provisions they had packed beforehand. Sofie walked in Bjorvingd and Kaïen, letting them acquaint themselves with each other, gathering some information on their lives.

They arrived at the temple and the priests evacuated their ground, as they had promised, to allow The Conatrians some privacy during their initiation ceremonies and rituals. Sofie, Bjorvingd and Kaïen spoke in a private chamber preparing the new recruit for the induction vows he would have to make while the councilors set up their food and items necessary for the initiation.

"Are you ready?" Sofie asked, but before Kaïen he could reply, Bjorvingd interrupted. "I'll strike you down where you stand, if you mess up these rites of initiation.," hHe said,

drawing his sword.

"Don't take it to heart, he means nothing by it.," Sofie reassured Kaïen and glared at Bjorvingd for his hostility.

The ceremony was ready and the vows began straight away. "Do you swear eternal dedication to The Order of Conatrians?" Sofie asked him. They were stood in front of the Azura shrine monument and Sofie was standing with Bjorvingd and opposite Kaïen.

"I swear eternal dedication to The Order of The Conatrians.," Kaïen replied.

"Do you swear to uphold the principles of Cona and Trianda, our namesake founders?"

Bjorvingd asked, staring Kaïen in the eye.

"I swear to uphold the principles of out namesake founders,." Kaïen responded.

"Are you willing to spend your life in service of our policies?" Sofie asked, a blank look on her face.

"I am."

Would you protect our Grandmaster and all she favours without a second thought?" Bjorvingd asked, a questioning look on his face.

"I would."

"Then with the authority granted unto me, I declare thee Conatrian Branchmaster of

Solstheim,." Sofie said, elated and excited for Kaïen to begin building the new sect of their order.

A/N: I thought I'd keep it short (for a fanfic) and I can't wait to hear your suggestions and recommendations.


	5. On Homeland Shores

The Conatrian  
On Homeland Shores  
4E 223

She stepped off the longboat, Bjorvingd not far behind, ingesting the crisp air of mid Suns Height. A Conatrian was ranting at the dockworker the order had relied on to arrange transport for their supplies. Sofie decided to intervene. She began walking over to the infuriated member of her band. She drew her blade as she neared the couple and in one fluid movement, she had grounded the dockworker and a shocked expression morphed on the Conatrian's face. The dockworker haemorrhaged blood from his gut, a blank expression on his dying face. The rest of the dockers looking around petrified, fled the scene where a murder had just been committed. Oddly, Bjorvingd cast her a criticising gaze and came over to examine the man. He threw the argonians individual purses of gold for their silence and disposed of the corpse by tossing it into the river. The rumble of approaching guards alarmed the Conatrians who drew their blades. But their tension was rendered irrelevant as an aging Ulfric Stormcloak appeared with the help of his attendants.

"Father!" Bjorvingd exclaimed, sheathing his rapier and throwing out his arms in a welcoming manner. His father looked so old now, his once blond hair now platinum white, his face gaunt and tired from his years of warmongering. He hardly ever left his palace anymore, but he valued his children and would go to any effort to see them. Stormcloak embraced his son, looking delighted to see him after his prevalent absence in the recent months.

The old man then lifted himself from his son and addressed the Conatrians who had congregated in awe of the revolutionary. "Let's to the palace for a feast!" The elderly Nord cheered, the Conatrians following his cheers and applauding his decision. The procession through Windhelm was slow, Ulfrics age and position at the front of the parade impeding their speed and pace. Stormcloak had been renowned for his feasts throughout the decades, regardless of the wars status. Sofie had often attended them in the past couple of years. They had been quite the rave, as Sofie remembered and she was sure it wouldn't change now.

They arrived at the palace to find servants laying the table, the banquet surely arranged in advance. The warlord wasn't known for his spontaneity and Sofie harboured doubts from the beginning of his proposal at the docks he had organised it as a spur of the moment thing. The ensuing hours were indeed, memorable for the rest of her life. She must have consumed at least five litres of mead and an immeasurable amount of ale. She recollected later the next day tearing apart veal and gorging it down her throat like an animal.

The Conatrians slept at the Palace Of The Kings that night, occupying every single guest bed available and many of them awoke half naked in their beds. Sofie arose in the morning with a blazing headache and memory impairment. For an elderly octogenarian, Ulfric certainly knew how throw a rave. Sofie was in a room, dim-lit with seven other female senior members of The Conatrian Order. She too, was bare chested and covered herself up with her blankets. She heard a masculine snore from the side of her bed. She trembled and feared the worst. She looked beside her to the right of her bed on the floor. Lying there, was a fully naked, Canute, the junior recruit she had met the two years before. She laughed it off and concluded they probably hadn't done anything too extreme.

There was no doubt about it, she was on homeland shores...


	6. Tensions

The Conatrian

Tensions

4E 223 23rd Suns Height

The group had been back at Treva's Watch a few days and atmospheres had been awkward between Sofie and the young recruit they called Canute. She didn't remember too much about their liaison, but her memory had cleared as her recovery from the extremely hardcore party in Windhelm progressed. She reminisced of pleasant lovemaking with the 19 year old but beyond that, the encounter was still foggy in memorisation. But she needn't dwell on that when more pressing matters beckoned for her attention.

* * *

Bjorvingd had been rather taxing her, emotionally, draining her with the intense meetings and dicussions. She hadn't got too many plans arranged for the next few weeks, but Bjorvingd seemed to be slipping into the drivers seat of conatrian affairs and operations. She needed to remind him he was her deputy, a vice grandmaster if ever there was one. She had indeed relaxed her authority in the last couple of days, but it did not excuse Bjorvingd's dictatorially behaviour. His attitude to organising the Conatrians had clearly been autocratic to anyone, and the young girl was ready to make a stand against his increasing authority. She would address him formally later in the day.

"Bjorvingd, I want to discuss something with you..." She said, clasping a hand on his shoulder before he released an arrow to the target practice figure

"What is it, Sofie?" He asked, slightly afraid he had done something wrong, though trying to conceal it.

"You are out of control with power, you make impossible demands, kill trainees when they fail in a minor task, and you are trying to change the Conatrian way of life." Sofie explained, exhaling as she finished her speech.

"And what is it you are trying to achieve by telling me my own policies?"

"I'm warning you, if you keep up trying to mould the Conatrians into a Stormcloak agency, you will go the same way as everyone else who has fallen victim to my blade!" She exclaimed, the caution transparently ringing in her tone.


	7. Submerged

The Conatrian

Submerged

4E 225

The crossing over to Hammerfell had been treacherous thus far, and there were no signs of a let up. Eight weeks of travelling on the high seas had took its toll on the crew and supplies were dwindling. Sofie had been writing daily letters to her fellow Conatrians to ensure all was well and accounted for in anticipation of her arrival in Taneth.

"How much longer will those foul weather last for?!" She yelled at the captain, waves of seawater rolling in battering the ship and drowning her words out.

"The day men can predict the patterns of the heavens, is the day monarch and man cease their squabbles." The captain bellyached back at her.

Indeed, it seemed war would never end. Sofie had tried to talk Ufric into working more welcoming with the imperials, that they may better see off the Thalmor and their domineering hold over the humans. Sofie and Ulfric had fallen out over that, and Bjorvingd felt caught in the middle of it all.

Senior sailors of the ship barked orders about to the young deckhands who were doing their best to keep the ship afloat as it was, without the added pressure of the older seamen screeching in their ears. The Conatrians were also contributing to the day-to-day proceedings of keeping the ship in working order, helping to caulk and repair her when she got damaged or her hull got bruised and cracked.

More and more battering waves of the harsh and cruel sea rolled onto the deck and cleared it of all the sailors trying patch it up from previous assaults of the maelstrom. The deckhands were swept into the evil aqua abyss never to be seen again, prompting expressions of utter shock and disbelief on the faces of all who witnessed the sailors tossed into the depths of the oceans like ragdolls.

The captain turned the ship, setting it on course toward Morrowind, where Captain Cardelzas intended to keep them until the vile weather on the oceans blew over. But, a further multitude of waves cut his plan short.

The bow was overwhelmed by the waves and gave in, plunging into the murky waters. The rest of the ship was soon overcome and Sofie clung to the deck for dear life. The ship was split in two, and the bowsprit end of the ship faded away into the distance.

Not long after, the torrents and gusts of the wind ragged the ship in every way and direction possible, before the ship began to leak cargo and supplies from the hold. Sofie and her Conatrians were now like adhesive flooring to the ship, determined not to let themselves slip away into the abyss.

Within minutes the Captain gave up, and disappeared, having abandoned the ship. The ship, without anyone to steer it through the horrendous conditions plummeted into the depths of the sea and sank to the bottom of the ocean, scattering the Conatrians apart. Sofie, took completely by surprise, and without any time to react to the sudden submersion of the frigate was still hanging onto it when it committed itself to the ocean.

She opened her eyes to find herself at the mercy of the sea, and looked around to see if any of her Conatrian companions were nearby. Indeed, an experienced member of the order drifted past her. She grabbed onto the middle aged man and shook him to wake him from what seemed like sleep. He opened his eyes, looking perplexed by his current location. She indicated the wreckage of the ship and pointed to the surface level, and the two began to swim to shore.

Memorising her training from the past decade, she kicked upwards and began to pull herself up to the surface. The Conatrian she was with followed her movements and they were almost at the top. They couldn't hold their breath forever though and soon, the Nord accompanying her seemed to be blacking out. Sofie noticed this and slapped him across the face to wake him up from slipping into unconsciousness.

He awoke again to find Sofie leering over him. They were close to the top of the ocean now and there wasn't much further to go. They kicked up in desperation, Sofie herself feeling her own energy drain. But they made it in time and Sofie poked her head up and exhaled one of the deepest breaths of her life. The thirty-something joined her and the two realised that only half the battle was won. Their next challenge was to find land.

"What's your name?" Sofie asked, unable to put a name to the face of the man next to her.

"I am Seiran, I joined the order five years ago." The man said, Sofie wondered how she hadn't yet seen him in action or on a tour.

The couple began to scan the horizons for any sign of land. Sure enough, a small island materialised in the distance and Sofie pointed it out to Seiran. He nodded and they began to battle the twists and turns of the ocean in an effort to reach the shore. Finally, luck went their way and the waves started to whip them further toward the island.

They heaved closer to the island and after several hours of ploughing and heaving toward the isolated island, the pair of them washed up along the shoreline, thoroughly exhausted, Sofie rested her head upon the gritty sand, drifting off into luxurious sleep. Seiran, devoid of every bit of energy, spent all his strength into picking Sofie up from the sand before the tide came back in and washed her away again. Although he thought it would kill him, he heaved her body up and threw her limply onto his shoulder.

He could only take her weight for a few seconds before she had to be launched across the beach to allow his shoulder to recover. That woke her up, if only for a couple of minutes. She realised they were okay, thanked Seiran and buried her head in the sand again. Seiran worried himself for a few minutes, that she had died of exhaustion, but a quick check of her pulse clarified otherwise.

Relieved, he let himself sleep for a while. They would soon have to find out where exactly on Nirn they were and where the others had gone to, if they had managed to survive at all. Indeed, as Sofie woke up on the beach, she asked herself the very same question. She shook Seiran, who jumped up at once to confront who disrupted his sleep. He saw it was Sofie and sheathed his sword. "Where are we?" Sofie asked, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

"I don't know." Seiran responded, rubbing his eye and pulling himself to his feet. He started to look around and saw more islands in the distance, similar to the one they sat on now.

After a little debating, they decided to swim over to the other islands, leading them between two cliffs which led into the mainland of Morrowind.


End file.
